


Transmissions from Persephone

by armouredescort



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst and Feels, F/M, Gen, Kerberos Mission, Pre-Kerberos Mission, Those Left Behind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-23 04:35:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11395452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armouredescort/pseuds/armouredescort
Summary: Lieutenant Commander Simone Turner is assigned to the communications team for the Kerberos Mission. Her job is to align the dishes, and receive data transmissions from thePersephoneas she speeds further away from Earth. She's there to deliver diagnostics and messages to loved ones. She's there when they land.She's there when it all goes to hell.





	Transmissions from Persephone

**Author's Note:**

> 100 fanfics on AO3! This is the big Number One Hundred.

It was 2.38am at the Galaxy Garrison Mission Control Centre when everything on the Kerberos Mission went dead. Simone was dutifully calculating dish adjustments to calibrate with the new relays as deployed by _Persephone_ , and paused, thinking she had ordered the dishes in Canberra to turn too far.

The lights showed green across the board from their end. Red from _Persephone_. Nothing should have been in the way of the transmissions. Simone flicked a couple of switches, trying to find the signal but it had simply winked out, the all-terrain buggy first, then the team, and then _Persephone_ herself. The last transmissions logged themselves into her databank.

She switched her channel to the databank, and brought up the last five minutes of data. They were doing ice samples, drilling carefully. There was Commander Holt, just to the side of Ensign Holt and Lieutenant Shirogane as the two younger men retrieved a sample.

They were talking happily, about their project, about the possibility of life.

Then there was an awful shudder, and the video started to cut in and out, like something was disrupting the feed.

“What was that? Seismic activity?” said Commander Holt, a thread of concern in his voice.

“We should get back to the ship,” Lieutenant Shirogane said.

Ensign Holt was looking behind him, holding the ice sample when a shadow overtook them, and their video feeds glitched out entirely.

“What? What is that?” someone shouted. Commander Holt. “It can’t be!”

Can’t be what? What had they _seen?_ Simone didn’t know if it was better or worse that the video had cut out.

There was a horrible wailing noise, like something was powering up.

“Run! Come on, run!”

Lieutenant Shirogane.

Then that noise got louder. Cracking noises, like the ground was shattering, dominated, and the crew was screaming.

Silence. Complete silence. No vitals, no crackle of a weak signal. Just silence as if they had been snuffed from existence.

Across from Simone’s control panel, Lucy looked up from her work with the Venus International Space Station. Her eyes wandered down the panel. Simone stared back fearfully as she picked up the phone.

Her hands were shaking.

“I need Flight Director Iverson in Mission Control. Now,” she said.

Then she dropped the phone, and tried resetting the connection by moving the dishes. Her contacts in Australia were just as confused as she was, the dishes moving agonisingly slowly as they tried to recapture the _Persephone_ signal.

Nothing. 

The _Persephone_ and her crew were gone. 

**** 

Simone had been following the _Persephone_ mission since before it had launched, and had been honoured to be assigned to the communications team. She had met the crew twice — once during their training, and once while they were doing their usual meet and greet days before the launch. Matthew Holt had been quiet, reserved, but Simone suspected he was overloaded by the amount of people he was meeting. Her thoughts were confirmed when Matthew had sidled up to the pilot, Takashi Shirogane, and said something she couldn’t hear. They had broken into laughter, which was hurriedly stifled as Commander Holt glanced their way. Their seriousness lasted for all of a moment until the Commander crossed his eyes at his two crew and smiled. 

The Commander was gentle, a man of science and reason, excitable throughout the planning of the mission. His hair may have been faded, face lined with the efforts of long nights and years of being in a cutthroat military-based science division, but that shining enthusiasm never faltered. 

Where Commander Holt and Matthew made up the science division, and thus not as interesting to the public as they should be, Takashi Shirogane was the Galaxy Garrison’s golden boy. He was intelligent, handsome, kind, and the best pilot they had for the mission. His official photograph was nothing less than immaculate, and he had that irritating ability to look good in any shot, regardless of how candid it was. Whereas Matthew Holt barely stayed tidy for the bare minimum of daily inspections, and Commander Holt was often looking in the wrong direction entirely, Shirogane somehow managed to make it work. 

He was a terrible cook, though. One of the IT technicians told Simone about their potluck, and Shirogane had sheepishly presented his best attempt at macaroni and cheese. It was not good. Good thing they had rations that were near impossible to mess up. 

Simone had shaken their hands, smiled, told them what her job was, and watched as they were hurried through the rest of the Mission Control team. She didn’t think they would remember her, if only for the fact that they had met so many people that day. 

Yet when she had sat down for her first shift with the _Persephone_ , Matthew Holt cheerily reassured her that he knew who she was. 

“You had a poppy pin on your lapel,” he said. 

"One of the crew in Australia sent it,” Simone said. 

“How nice of them,” said Matthew. 

She didn’t add that her great-great-great-grandmother was Australian and had married an American soldier in World War Two. The poppy was in memory of her great-great-great-grand-uncles that had never made it back. Her family had been military ever since, and had overseen the absorption of NASA and the US military into the Galaxy Garrison. That sort of information wasn’t useful. 

“We have a few hours before the dishes go out of alignment, Ensign Holt,” said Simone. “I would like to run diagnostics on the _Persephone_ to ensure everything is in working order." 

“Oh, of course. I’ll put Taka—I mean Shirogane on,” said Matt. 

There was a silence, and then Shirogane’s voice came through. 

“Lieutenant Shirogane speaking.” 

No wonder he was the golden boy. Even distorted by the radio, Shirogane’s voice was soothing to listen to. Confident, but not cocky. One of those people that could voice those in-flight safety announcements and make you want to listen. 

“Lieutenant Commander Simone Turner, communications officer,” replied Simone. 

“The lady with the poppy pin,” said Shirogane. “What can I do for you?” 

There was something warm about the exchange that seemed genuine, like he hadn’t overheard Ensign Holt say it only moments before. The diagnostics went quickly, and they finished with enough time to transmit the data that _Persephone_ was already collecting. It was nice. Some of the pilots she had dealt with in the past had seen diagnostics as a hindrance, or they demanded too much from too little time and resources. 

Considering they had months to spend coordinating with one another, this was a good thing. Simone had a good feeling about this mission. 

*** 

The length between replies was stretching out, and as far as technology had come there was nothing they could do to stop that. The relays the _Persephone_ team were deploying were intended to speed up data transfer, but there were multiple factors that would delay their transmissions. Soon Simone would be listening to recordings of events far in the past. 

“Once you’re past Jupiter, we won’t be able to talk like this,” said Simone. “You’ll be on your own.” 

“I know,” said Lieutenant Shirogane. 

There was a sigh, and Simone could hear the Holts in the background. Sounded like they were playing a card game. Sounded like Ensign Holt was winning. 

“Good luck,” said Simone. 

Three hours later, as she finished her shift, she knew that was the last time they’d speak until they were on their return journey. 

It was raining, with fog clouding the road to the barracks that were ten kilometres away, and Simone wondered if the Holts and Shirogane missed the rain. The _Persephone_ wasn’t a particularly large ship, packed to the brim with supplies for their mission. They had a rover onboard, plus the buggy, and a veritable hoard of scientific equipment, spare parts, food and water. No doubt the conditions would make it difficult, especially the amount of time they had to spend so close together. 

She flicked on her radio, and drove in silence as the fog started to fade with the morning light. It was one of those obscure nighttime radio shows that operated out of tiny shacks in the desert. 

She could never do it. Not what they were doing. Simone loved space, but she knew where she wanted to be. The spotlight wasn’t for her, and she was fine with that. Besides, she enjoyed communications. 

The senior barracks glowed in the distance, like a beacon to the universe, a soft cry of _I’m here, I’m here_. 

*** 

Even though she had done so numerous times before, she felt strange listening in on the reports. Like it was an invasion of privacy. They were recorded for the communications officers. There was no reason for it to feel like a violation. 

Simone listened to _Persephone_ ’s reports as she started to sort through the data necessary for the latest relay activation. Each one required a spacewalk, and with six in total the crew would be sharing the duty. Ensign Holt had done the first one, and Lieutenant Shirogane had completed the second one. Now it was Commander Holt’s turn and his face was brighter than a socialite’s mansion at Christmas in the photo they sent back from the ship. 

His spacewalk forms were barely professional, the sheer delight at having floated in space for an hour bubbling over. 

“ _Persephone_ , this is Lieutenant Commander Turner, reporting that the relay is switched on and ready for your use,” she said, and switched off her mic to wait. 

It was a day shift, so the control room was a little busier than usual. Lucy was talking to the Venus International Space Station again, trying to get them to send their resupply orders through to the correct departments. The look on her face suggested that she had stepped in something unpleasant, or that VISS were not cooperating. 

Probably the latter. 

A few people were milling about, bringing in paper copies of plans and equations, and running messages to other departments. She sighed, the other communications officer on hand out to eat some lunch and throw down an awful coffee. There wouldn’t be a reply for quite some time, but someone always had to be at the console in case of an emergency. 

Simone finished her work, and fiddled with the little model of the _Persephone_ blu-tacked to the top of the housing for her computers. It was a prototype from merchandising, which she had ended up painting herself whilst hanging about in an engineering workshop during off-shift. The windows had been big enough to paint the faces of the _Persephone_ crew. 

“Hey, hope you’re not fighting over the last chocolate bar,” she said to it, and then leaned back in her chair, swinging from side to side restlessly. 

She was desperate to go for a run this evening after work. Ever since the _Persephone_ had passed out of the range of instant contact, a gnawing unease had settled on her shoulders. Nothing was wrong with the _Persephone_ or her crew, although they had run out of space peas for the trip there and wouldn’t be scheduled to open up the next box until they arrived at Kerberos. 

“There’s nothing wrong,” she muttered. “Knock it off.” 

Gabe, the one of the other communications officers, came back a few minutes later, and they swapped. Simone sculled an overly sweet coffee, and had a roast beef sandwich before going to the bathroom. The mirror showed the same face as it usually did, round and dark with her hair shaved to her skull, except today Simone had put on some eyeliner for the hell of it. She grimaced at the bags under her eyes, and splashed some cold water on her cheeks. According to her watch, there should be a reply by the time she was back at work, although it was possible Gabe was handling it. She lingered by the vending machine, wondering if the coffee there would be any better, and decided against it. The vending machine was full of lies. 

“Hey, the relay is calibrated,” said Gabe as Simone took her seat. “There’s a report from Commander Holt.” 

Opening the file, Simone was surprised that it was a video. Commander Holt was in the sleeping quarters according to the metadata that tracked the movements and vitals of each of the _Persephone_ ’s crew. 

“Hello officers, I was hoping you’d be able to do me a favour and send the rest of this video to my wife. It’s our thirty-second wedding anniversary in a few days, and I wanted to make sure she had a gift on the day. I’ve had roses pre-ordered before I left Earth, but a video never hurts. Thank you,” said Commander Holt. 

He paused for a few seconds, and then started to speak again, this time addressing his wife Colleen. As much as Simone wanted to give them privacy and simply clip out the video to send to Colleen, part of her job was to make sure that any outgoing footage was put through the appropriate channels. 

The message was endearing, and soft tone of Commander Holt’s voice spoke to how much he missed Earth and his family. He hoped that Katie was doing well, and that she had stayed out of her school’s computer system to fiddle with her absentee days. Being at school was hard, especially when you were brighter than the other students, but constantly having the application to load up on more advanced subjects knocked back. Patience was obviously not one of Katie’s strong points, mused Simone, and she chuckled at the thought of Commander Holt’s rebellious teenage daughter entering the Garrison for the first time. 

She would get quite the shock, but if she was as smart as Commander Holt’s words suggested she was, Katie would fit right in a department that let her burn off her energy. Commander Holt finished the message with a simple “I love you” to Colleen and a blown kiss, and then the video ended. 

Simone clipped out the start of the video, slapped in the official “do not disclose to anyone outside of the intended recipient” notice at the beginning and put it on a storage stick. She’d deliver it after work, since they weren’t allowed to send footage to external servers. 

Colleen appreciated the gesture, clutching the envelope tightly, and inviting Simone in for dinner. After that, Simone delivered all of the messages for the Holts that way. 

*** 

Mission Control was celebrating, packed with people as the _Persephone_ made her final descent into Kerberos. Shirogane landed immaculately, as expected. 

There were so many people whooping, jumping about. Simone was hugging Lucy, and Gabe had piled on top of them both. Flight Director Iverson was clutching at the head engineers, saying, “Precision work, precision work” over and over, thumping them on the back. 

“We did it,” shouted a technician down the front. 

On the big screens, the Holts were waving at the ship’s camera as Shirogane flopped back, exhausted, but giving a thumbs up. 

The celebrations continued into the night, moving to one of the cafeterias where there was food and drink laid out. The video continued on screens in the cafeteria, looping the landing and the astronauts’ own small party. Commander Holt was breaking out juice boxes, and Ensign Holt was rehydrating a small chocolate cake for them to share. Shirogane was taking a nap, passed out on his bunk without even changing into his sleepwear. 

He reawoke for cake and juice, happily munching on the treat with the others. His hair was ruffled, sticking up at the back. Ensign Holt tried to smooth it down with one hand, but it was too tricky without a brush. 

They were happy. Everyone was happy. Tomorrow, they’d deploy their rover and then the buggy so they could start setting up equipment. The rover would take most of the day, easing it out for independent roaming, but given good conditions, there would be ice samples by the afternoon. For Simone, it would be late at night, with most of America asleep. They’d put together some footage for the press release, and after a few days the excitement would die down until _Persephone_ was scheduled to take off again. 

*** 

Everyone on duty in Mission Control the night the Kerberos mission failed was put into lockdown. Instead of being sent back to her usual barracks, Simone was put into a tiny room with her communication pad confiscated, and a guard outside her door. 

“I’ve done nothing wrong,” she protested. 

"I know, and I’ve made sure you’re well supplied in there. We have to keep you all separated so the information isn’t corrupted,” said Iverson. 

It was true. There was a bathroom, and toiletries, fresh clothes, even books to read and a screen with a log of movies that dated right back to the silent era. She had managed to grab the _Persephone_ model off her computer before being ushered away from her desk, and it was this she clutched at now. The little faces peered back at her, their smiles broad. 

Simone started to cry. 

And once she started, she couldn’t stop. 

The sorrow was piercing her to her heart, and it felt like her body was too small and frail to hold all of the emotions. They couldn’t stop spilling out, and no doubt the guard could hear her wailing in despair. They were her colleagues. Her friends. And they were _gone_. They might not have spoken much face-to-face, but she was one of the people that kept them grounded with human contact. 

About ten minutes after she had been put into her room, someone came to interview her. She didn’t take much notice of what they looked like, or the questions they asked, realising only afterwards that they had asked the same things several times. 

She needed to take a shower, but she didn’t want to let go of the model. It was all she had left. Maybe, just maybe, if she held it long enough, someone would come back and say it was all a big mistake, that someone had planted the footage, that Commander and Ensign Holt were still drilling ice cores, that Lieutenant Shirogane was still holding the tripod steady — that none of the screaming had happened. 

The Garrison kept her in the room for three days, then when they let her out, they forbade her from leaving the campus. 

“We have plans,” said Commander Iverson. 

He held out a box. Inside was a steel-grey badge, set in the shape of a leaf. He was offering her a promotion. 

"Commander Turner, we are going to require your help against the potential invasion of Earth by aliens. What we witnessed was a declaration of war,” said Iverson. "And we don't know when they will come back to make good on that declaration." 

“Are they dead? Is the Kerberos team dead?” asked Simone. 

Iverson’s eyes wavered, his bottom lip quivering for a moment. They were his team, too. Iverson would have spent more time with the _Persephone_ crew than anyone else at the Garrison. 

“We have to assume so. We cannot help them, but we can honour them by preparing as best we can in the time we have.” 

Simone nodded, and took the box, slipping her gold badge off and replacing it with the new one. 

“I accept this duty, as I would do with any other, sir,” she said. 

“Good,” said Iverson. “Let’s get started.” 

Inside her jacket, Simone could feel the _Persephone_ model press against her hip. For the sake of the people they had lost, she would persevere. 


End file.
